


A Motorcycle, a Latte, and an Apartment Roof

by Michelle_A_Emerlind



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Bottom!Rick, But I imagine them as versatile in the future, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Merle is Arrested, No Apocalypse, Past Rick/Lori, top!Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick has recently gone through a horrible divorce with Lori and since his ex-wife left him for his best friend, he has no one to talk to and nothing to look forward to. But when he meets the intriguing and hard country Daryl Dixon after arresting Merle, will he finally find the person he's been needing all along?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Motorcycle, a Latte, and an Apartment Roof

**Author's Note:**

> See the cover made by the awesome skarlatha here: [Cover!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2833838)
> 
> For the sake of the story, I am assuming that Merle and Daryl live in the same town as Rick (or have moved there recently). This is a no apocalypse AU and Rick was never shot. Also, after writing this, I think I have fallen in love with No Apocalypse AUs (and also, a little bit with arrested Merle). I hope that you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!

Rick hauled Merle Dixon, the fighting, muttering biker into the station. Merle struggled against the cuffs and spat out “fucking coppers” and “asshole pigs” and called Rick’s good mother all kinds of nasty adjectives. Rick sighed and waved away several of his fellow officers who moved forward to help him wrangle the new criminal. Dixon was the last thing he needed today and he was none too happy about the scrapes and bruises he would have in the morning from wrestling the guy down.

He threw Merle into one of the police chairs that littered the open front desk area and called to their office secretary, Traci, to start the paperwork. While he was turned, the biker leaned forward and, with a show of gathering all his hatred and intent, spat all over Rick’s new boots. Rick set his jaw and turned to look Merle dead in the eye. “Traci, add assault and resisting arrest.”

Merle wrinkled his nose and sunk in the corners of his mouth. “You’re a piece of horseshit,” he spat at Rick and Rick knew that his day had gone downhill fast.

***

It was a full hour later that Rick emerged from booking and settling Merle Dixon into his new cozy cell. And hopefully, Rick thought, he would stay there for a good, long while. Traci motioned him to the front desk and showed him the file.

"I don't think there's much evidence here to hold him long, do you think?" she asked.

Rick shook his head. "No. I know what he was doing, but I can't prove it."

Traci smiled. "But he was an asshole and he needed some time to cool down?"

Rick nodded and winked at her, then walked to his desk. He cleared it off of a pile of papers that still had to be processed by shoving them in one of his desk drawers. He pulled his phone from his pocket and immediately regretted that decision. Lori had called him. He frowned and turned his phone off, throwing that in the drawer as well.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to control the swirl of emotions that overcame him at the thought of Lori. Lori, his wife-- _ex-wife_ \--who had stole away with his only kid. Lori who had an affair with his best friend and partner. Lori who was pregnant with Shane's baby. He looked up instinctively to Shane's desk across the precinct, but it was empty, as it should have been. It was the tense truce they had made with one another--opposite shifts, working in the same building, but never at the same time.

What are they doing now, Rick wondered and immediately stopped himself. It didn't matter. It wasn't his business anymore. Let them do what they wanted to. He didn't care. He let out a long, hard breath into the air and steeled himself for the exciting, adventurous life of a police officer deep in paperwork.

***

Shortly after, Traci approached Rick's desk slowly, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. "Rick?" she asked and Rick looked up from his report. She blushed and held out the message. "Lori called."

Rick stared at her outstretched hand before taking the paper and wadding it up in a ball, throwing it in the trash. "Thanks," he muttered and returned to looking at his report.

"Oh," Traci said, "and there's someone to see you." She motioned to the front desk. A man was leaning against it, his shoulders somehow tense and relaxed at the same time. His medium length hair was swept away from his forehead and he was dressed in worn jeans and a faded sleeveless shirt. Rick could tell from the hard look in his face that he was going to be trouble

Rick nodded and stood up. He walked forward to the desk, continuing to size the man up. He had a biker's helmet held in one hand, his boots were dirty, and he had one of those chain wallets that spoke of repeated use. Everything about him looked rough and unkept. Typical trailer-trash, Rick thought as he slided up, but put on his best face.

"Rick Grimes," he said and held out his hand, fully expecting the other to scoff or ignore it. To his surprise, though, the man nodded and took his hand with a firm handshake.

"Daryl," he said, his eyes still narrowed on Rick.

"What can I do for you, Daryl?" He asked, resting his hands just above his belt.

"You've got my brother," he nodded toward the back of the building. "Thought I'd bail him out."

"What's your brother's name?" Rick asked, already turning to the counter to get the paperwork he would need from Traci.

"Merle Dixon," he said predictably.

Rick nodded. "You know your brother tried to rob a bank this morning?" he asked.

Daryl scoffed and nodded. "Yeah, he's a dumb bastard."

Rick smiled, turning from the counter with the file in his hand. "I'm sorry to say I can't argue with that."

Daryl smiled back just the smallest bit, one side of his mouth quirked up a fraction of an inch higher than the other side. "Look, he's stupid, but he's not dangerous. I'll pay his bail." Rick gave Daryl an up and down look and Daryl must have known exactly what he was thinking, because he frowned and continued. "With money I did NOT get from robbing a bank."

Rick looked away apologetically. "Well, you should have a talk with your brother about this kind of thing before he ends up in even more trouble." Daryl nodded. "But," Rick continued and sighed, "there's not much evidence we can hold him on." He gave Daryl a hard look. "So he's lucky. We're keeping him for the night for resisting arrest, but he'll be released in the morning."

Daryl nodded and immediately straightened. "Thanks. I'll be back to grab him first thing, then."

Rick nodded. "I'll be expecting you." He watched the man walk out of the precinct, helmet already up and halfway on.

***

Rick opened the door to his apartment and sighed at the empty walls and lightly furnished living room. He shut the door loudly, just to give him something to hear, and walked to the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. He threw down his hat, badge and gun and walked to the fridge. Opening it, he already knew he would find nothing and that it was another Chinese night.

Within his pocket, his phone vibrated. He sighed and stared at the gallon of milk only a fourth full and then took it out and answered it. "Lori."

"Rick!" Lori said in a tone that was both worried and condescending. "I've been trying to get you all day." He didn't respond, having nothing to say, so she continued. "Look, I don't want to be like this. I've never wanted to be this person, but--"

"It's in the mail," Rick snapped and was greeted with silence. "Your damn check is in the mail, Lori. Take care of Carl." He hung up and for good measure, threw the phone on the bar. It made a loud clunk and then skidded off, falling on the living room floor, but he couldn't be bothered to care.

***

Rick was at his desk well before he should be. Before dawn, he had wandered into the quiet office, staffed by a few tired workers and officers finishing their night shifts (Shane, thankfully, already gone). He thought about tidying his report on Dixon, adding in that the evidence gathered was circumstantial and placing a note in regard to his brother, in case they needed family information for later offenses--because Rick was sure there would be more than one offense with this guy.

But writing the report seemed tiring and Rick was already exhausted from a night of little sleep, two phone arguments with Lori and one with Shane. Instead, he pulled out a notepad stuffed in the last drawer of his desk and flipped through it. Inside were police sketches of suspects, everything from basic outlines to detailed examples of eyes and chins and noses. It wasn't a required skill, but Rick thought it helped him be a better rounded observer and participant in the precinct.

He flipped to a new page and started a very basic outline of Merle, with the intent of showing it to every officer who said they were looking for a badass, delinquent biker. It became pretty evident, though, that looking at Merle's face was not going to help out Rick's mood any this morning, so he turned the page and stared at the blank expanse. He thought about drawing Traci or the other officers for practice. Then he thought about Carl and, briefly, Lori. But each idea seemed worse than the last, so he gave up and started to sketch a blank face, drawing the outline of a jaw.

He was interrupted by someone rapping their knuckles on his desk. He looked up to see the younger Dixon brother--looking less white trash today, but still hard country. He put down the pencil and nodded up at his visitor.

"Officer Grimes," Daryl said, "I'm here for my brother."

"Right," Rick said, "Daryl, was it? For Merle Dixon?" Of course he wouldn't have forgot, he told himself, with Daryl's distinctive face--his observant eyes and the way he looked like he was _almost_ on the verge of smiling.

"Yeah," Daryl said, "Merle. You said you'd release him this morning."

"That I did," Rick said, "and I'll keep my word.”  He closed his sketchbook and slid it into his desk before standing up.

“Sorry he’s such a jackass,” Daryl apologized and Rick just shrugged.

“Get a lot of them in here. It’s good that he’s got brother like you, though, to pick him up.”

Daryl shrugged. “When I can. Hard sometimes, with all the shit Merle gets himself into.”

Rick chuckled. “That’s family, though. Most of them aren’t good for anything, but we’re supposed to still stand by them, right?”

Daryl lifted the corner of his mouth in a half smile. “Yeah. Merle’s kin and I’m not leaving him. Even though I think he could use a brain cell or two.”

Rick smiled conspiratorially and nodded toward the back of the station. “I could let him stew for another few minutes if you wanted me to.”

“Officer,” Daryl said in a teasing tone, “isn’t that a little unethical?”

Rick shrugged. “He’s your brother. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Daryl looked around the station and then sat down in front of Rick’s desk. “Tell me what you were drawing over there.”

Rick sat back down and pulled out the sketchbook a second time. “Police sketches,” he said and handed the book over to Daryl. “Mostly practice. I’m not that good just yet, but I’m trying.”

Daryl flipped through the book, occasionally making a supportive nod. “These real people?”

Rick nodded. “Mostly. I tried to draw your brother, too, but it didn’t work out very well.”

Daryl scoffed. “You don’t want his ugly mug in your book, that’s for sure.” He handed it back. “Didn’t know that cops had so much free time on their hands that they could sit around and draw.”

Rick shrugged. “A quiet police station is a good police station, correct?”

“Or a dumb one,” Daryl spit out.

Rick blinked at him, surprised by the comment and the honesty in his voice. He laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “Or a dumb one.”

Daryl must have recognized what he said, because he leaned forward a little and said, “Other stations. I’m sure. Not this one.”

Rick smiled. “Now, I’m going to say that we’re pretty good because I work here, but I’ll be honest that there could be times that we’re busier.”

“Well, isn’t this a rare day,” Daryl said, “an officer admitting fault.”

“I’m not admitting fault,” Rick said, “I’m just saying there are many possibilities.”

Daryl nodded and then winked at him. “Gotcha. Alright. That’s probably enough time to let my brother sit there, you think?”

“Sure,” Rick said, standing. “I'll go get him, if you'll wait at the front desk."

Daryl nodded and stood, walking past him with long, sure strides. Rick turned and went through the "personnel only" door to where Merle was being held in the back of the building. The jackass grinned at Rick when he saw him.

"Don't have anything against old Merle, do ya, boy? That's what I thought." He stood from where he had been sitting on the jail cot. "Open the door and let me out, now. No hard feelings."

Rick moved to open the door and then thought about Daryl in the waiting room, about making Merle stew. He smiled and held up his pair of cuffs.  "Turn around."

Merle balked. "Fucking copper," he said, "you don't have to do that now."

"Police procedure," Rick said, trying to compose his serious face. "Put your hands on the wall." Merle grumbled, but did as he was told. Rick opened the cell and cuffed him before dragging him out to the front desk. Daryl was sitting in a waiting chair, right foot on his left knee. He raised an eyebrow when Rick and Merle entered.

Seeing his brother, Merle blurted out, "Damn unie's fucking with me, man. Ain't no use for these cuffs. It's damn police _brutality_."

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl said, with that soft insulting tone you only use with family. "You’re a piece of shit." Rick smiled at that, good to know that maybe his brother would put Merle in line. He uncuffed Merle, who started to rub at his wrists like he'd been cuffed all night.

"Thanks," Daryl told Rick, and a look passed between them. Then Merle was immediately launching into how Daryl should not be thanking any swine who arrested him in the first place and Rick just nodded and walked back to his desk.

***

Two days later, Rick hauled the fighting, muttering Merle back into the station, where he was again yelling out insults to all the fucking coppers, asshole pigs, and Rick's mother. The only difference was that this time Merle had got himself caught on security camera with a bag of hundreds running past the Starbucks across the street. For that, he was throwing some snide comments about "stupid goddamn hippie coffee drinkers and their cameras."

It took less time to process Merle this time around and even less time for Daryl to show up at the front desk, asking specifically for Rick.

Rick came around, approaching Daryl cautiously.

"Bail?" Daryl asked hopefully.

"Flight risk," Rick responded and Daryl just grunted.

"Figured," he said. "Heard on the radio about Citizens Trust. Didn’t think Merle was that stupid, but thought I'd better check."

Rick shook his head. "Caught him on a security camera."

Daryl sighed hard, but then just shrugged. "Figures."

"Not the first time this has happened, huh?" Rick asked and Daryl shook his head.

"Nah. It's just me and my brother. No other family and it's not like we grew up with a bunch of good examples, you know?"

"You seemed to get out of it pretty well," Rick said, leaning on the counter next to Daryl.

Daryl shrugged and Rick watched his shoulders tense and then release, hidden only slightly within the worn fabric of his shirt. "Decided to take out the bad feelings on squirrels with arrows, not guns and a bank. Not much different, really."

"Less jail time, though," Rick said and Daryl smiled.

"There is that. Can I see him?"

Rick shook his head. "We have to talk to him and get some details and things. Tomorrow morning."

Daryl nodded. "Alright. See you then." Rick watched him walk away, his calm and confident swagger and wished he had someone in his life that cared that much about him.

***

Six in the morning and Rick was there and so was Daryl. He came carting two grande lattes and set one in front of Rick casually, as if he belonged there.

Rick laughed. "This is from Starbucks," he said. "Starbucks is what arrested your brother."

"I know, man," Daryl said, "thought I'd buy it as an apology for his shitty attitude. That pretty secretary up there? Got her one, too." Daryl held up the second cup.

Rick smiled. "Not a latte guy?"

"Fuck no," Daryl said, holding his gaze and smiling. "If you're going to drink coffee, at least be a man about it." He turned from Rick's desk and sauntered to Traci, giving her the cup. Rick watched them and wondered if maybe the reason Daryl was in the office so often wasn't just for his brother. Traci smiled at Daryl and he gave her a grin to melt any heart before nodding and walking back to Rick.

"I can see my brother you said?" he asked.

“Yeah,” Rick answered and shrugged. “If you want to see him now.”

The corner of Daryl’s mouth quirked up. “He might need to sit for awhile again.”

“From what I’ve seen, he always needs to sit for a little while.”

“Cool,” Daryl said and took a seat across from Rick’s desk again. “So tell me why you wanted to be a cop. I don’t know many and I’ve always wondered who would want this job.”

Rick stared at his desk for a moment and then looked back up at Daryl, meeting his eyes. He shrugged. “I always wanted to help, I guess. I’m a rule-follower, even when I was in school, you know? I was the tattle-tale in kindergarten. The kid with no detention. And I grew up and I guess I just thought I wanted to be the one that was on the scene. The hero and enforcer.” He scoffed. “It’s a lot less exciting in real life, though. But I still like it. What about you? What do you do?”

“Me?” Daryl said, pointing to himself. “I’m just an outdoors guy. I give out crossbow lessons sometimes. I’m pretty good with a horse, so I help the Pine Hills Stables occasionally. Do horse riding lessons some. Work at an after school program, too, teaching kids to plant shit so they have somewhere to go besides home.” He shrugged. “Just odds and ends. I like having my own schedule. Being my own guy.”

Rick nodded and studied him a second time. He thought about his first impression--rough, trash, delinquent--and tried to reconcile it with a guy who worked with disadvantaged kids. “Different lifestyles, huh?” He said and Daryl nodded.

“Yeah. You patrol on city roads, I wander around in the forest.” He shrugged. “But it’s all the same deal. We all keep on living.” He stood and cracked his neck. “Guess I’ll see my brother now.”

Rick nodded and took him back into the visitor room. He led Merle from his cell and then stood outside, listening to the murmur of their voices, but not hearing the words.

***

The next morning, Rick woke up to his phone ringing, Lori's number flashing in his face. He groaned, thinking he had put it on silent the night before, and quickly hit the ignore button. Pushing his face into the pillow, he grunted. His phone dinged and he looked at it again. Lori, texting this time: "You're not being very mature about this." Well, fuck her, Rick thought. How was he supposed to be about this? He set his phone to silent and crawled out of bed, feeling like death warmed over.

By the time he crawled in the patrol car, the headache behind his eye was piercing. The day was hazy and the fog was picking up the dawn’s light and scattering it, blinding him. Clouds were rolling in, but hadn’t arrived and had yet to release the predicted afternoon showers. Rick turned the car on and the music blared from last night, sharpening the pain in his temple.

When he arrived to work, he was late and visibly angry. He stomped in the front door, uniform shirt not fully buttoned and a frown worn hard on his face. Rick looked at the front desk and saw Traci leaning over the counter, talking to Daryl, who must have beat him to work. Daryl was leaned over as well, his arms perched casually on the counter. Rick’s blood began to boil.

Rick stormed up to Daryl, the lines ofhis shoulders tense. “I don’t have time to let you in to see your brother every second that you feel like it, so I think you should come back later.”

Daryl blinked, gave him a good once over and snapped back just as easily, “What’s got you all hot this morning?”

Rick raised his eyebrows as high as he could and leaned in dangerously. “This is a police station. So I’m asking you to please leave so that the police can get their work done instead of you taking up their time flirting with the secretary.”

Traci blushed, but Rick only noticed out of his peripheral vision. He was staring hard into Daryl’s eyes and watching briefly as a flash of emotion crossed it, too fleeting to analyze. Finally, Daryl set his jaw and nodded. He straightened himself from the counter.

“I understand,” he said. With that, Daryl turned on his heel and marched out of the office.

As soon as the door closed, Traci was on Rick. “That was rude,” she said. “Leon already let him in to talk to his brother about lawyers and he was just waiting to say hi to you. You would KNOW that,” Traci snapped, “if you hadn’t been late to work.” She gave him a challenging glare. Rick blinked and then softened a little.

“I’m sorry, Tr--”

“Oh,” Traci said, not letting him finish. “And here’s your mocha.” She slammed down a Starbucks cup on the counter and then turned away from Rick.

“What’s this?” Rick asked.

“Oh, that?” Traci said, turning toward him again and giving him a death glare only a secretary could devise. “That is the coffee that Mr. Dixon brought you this morning. He said he noticed you didn’t like your latte yesterday and thought he’d try again. I WOULD say you should apologize, but it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it? And you have paperwork anyway, so scatter.” Traci pointed to his desk and, ashamed, Rick followed her orders and slunk over to his reports.

***

The afternoon crawled by and the only things that Rick had to divide his attention were Lori’s constant calls and his own guilt over how he’d treated Daryl. Throughout the day, he had taken periodic glances toward the front door, hoping to see a now familiar outline walking in. His ears strained to hear the sounds of a motorcycle outside. And on his patrol shift from early morning to mid-afternoon, he had even found himself scanning the streets for some sign of the younger Dixon brother. Traci was right and he knew she was. He should apologize for taking out something so trivial on someone he barely knew.

Which brought him to the second point of the day. Lori. After mustering the courage, he had listened to her voicemail only to find that she now wanted him to set up an appointment to change their wills. It pissed Rick off. It wasn’t like they had to change their own paperwork together and it especially wasn’t like it was his business to set the appointment. She was the one who ruined everything, Rick thought, she should at least have the decency to call.

So by the time he left for the day, he was still in a sour mood. The clouds from the morning had broken and rivers now covered the drains and the edges of the parking lot. Rick was quick into the police car and quick to pull out onto the main road. He didn’t have anything waiting for him at home--nothing but a table without a tablecloth and a bed with Walmart sheets--but it at least got him away from the office.

But the drive was slow going. Traffic was heavy at rush hour and slow due to the weather. Cars pulled forward inch by inch. When Rick passed the shopping center that marked his halfway point home, traffic sped up a little and he was making good time until he topped a hill and the car in front of him suddenly broke hard, screeching to a halt.

The sound of metal and cars skidding jerked Rick into the present. Rick slammed on his brakes and looked ahead. Two cars were stopped in front of him. As he squinted through the rain, he saw the man in the first car jump from the driver’s seat and run forward in a panicked state. Another car in the opposite lane had stopped, blocking traffic, and that was enough for Rick to jump into action.

He threw on the lights, but not the sirens and slid out of the car, jogging forward and observing the scene. As he rounded the car that was immediately in front of him, he could clearly see the accident. A motorcycle lay on its side in the middle of the street, the driver flung onto the shoulder of the road. He was on his back, not moving, but his helmet looked intact and Rick saw no obvious blood. The driver of the first car was kneeling next to the biker and another person was rushing from further up where a car was parked with it’s emergency lights flashing.

Rick swung into action. He knelt by the biker and snapped for the driver to call an ambulance. The driver nodded and he and the woman that had stopped in the opposing lane tried to get signal on their phones. Rick flung his own phone out and called the station at the same time that he started checking the biker.

He was worried for head injuries, so he didn’t touch the helmet, but he checked the pulse and found it strong and looked him over for any signs of serious injuries or broken limbs. The biker was wearing a jacket and rough jeans, and Rick examined him and found no bodily injuries, but he spotted blood pooling right below the helmet the second that the station picked up. 

Rick recognized the familiar sound of Traci’s voice, but his own wouldn’t begin to work. What if--? his brain asked, but he didn’t finish the thought.

“Traci,” Rick finally said, clearing his throat, “accident on 15th and Magnolia. I’m on the scene. One injury, unconscious. Ambulance is--” he looked back to where the observers were nodding at him. “Ambulance on their way. Get a car down here to start clearing traffic.” He hung up before Traci could say anything, knowing that she had gotten it all. By the time he had, he could hear sirens in the distance.

He turned back to the biker and tried to remember what Daryl had been wearing that morning. No jacket, but what had his jeans looked like? Bluer than that, Rick remembered, hoping for it to true.

The ambulance pulled in and the passenger’s side door flung open, an EMT jumping out. Two others followed suit and Rick stood, backing away from the biker. He updated the EMTs as best as he could. “Officer Rick Grimes. A second police car is coming to assist.” He pointed to the man. “He has a head injury and it’s bleeding quickly. Pulse is fine. I didn’t remove the helmet for fear that it’s applying pressure. No other serious injuries.”

The first EMT nodded and knelt by the biker, beginning to asses the situation for himself. Knowing that he couldn’t do anything more for the injured, Rick turned toward the three observers and tried not to focus on watching his peripheral vision to see just who was underneath the helmet.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Rick asked.

All three swallowed hard and then the man from further up spoke slowly. “It was...me. I...I cut him off. I didn’t see him. I…” He put his hand over his eyes. “I _swear_ I didn’t. Is he alive…?”

Rick nodded. “He’s alive, but let the EMTs work on him. They have it.” Rick turned to the other two observers. “Did you see the accident?”

The woman nodded. “Yes. He..” she looked at the visibly upset man next to her, but pressed on. “He cut over. The motorcycle tried to brake, but it must have hydroplaned.”

The last man corroborated the story and Rick was glad that it was at least straight-forward and no one was playing the blame game. He flew into business, taking a couple of quick pictures before getting the drivers to move their cars from the road. While he maneuvered the scene, he watched anxiously for the EMTs to finish. They were crowded around the fallen man and it took them a good five minutes before they had a stretcher out and were moving him onto the clean, white expanse.

Immediately after moving the man, they began taking off the helmet and Rick waited. As the helmet came free, his worst fears were realized. It was the younger Dixon brother. Even through the misting rain, Rick could see the familiar haircut, the shape of the face and the distinctive expression he wore even while unconscious. Rick sucked in a breath and held it. For one count, two, five altogether. He closed his eyes and tried not to succumb to the feeling of drowning, to his life falling apart at the seams. _You don’t even do your damn job right_ , he thought, _what an asshole you were_ , but he pushed it back.

A cop car skidded up next to him and an officer popped out of the passenger’s side. Rick turned to give them an update and froze. Shane.

Shane recognized him in the same instant and they both stopped, suspended on the road. Rick squared his shoulders, bracing himself. Shane licked his lips and then ground his teeth, stalking forward.

Rick receded into reaction mode, letting the words fall off his lips easy, his voice turning professional and cold. “Motorcycle and one car,” he said. _Daryl Dixon_ , he thought. “Two witnesses.” _This morning…_ “All corroborate the same story.” _His eyes_. “Car cut off the bike,” Rick motions to where the vehicles were driving. _Lori and Shane. Together._ “Biker lost control.” _Crashing._ “Hydroplaned.” _His life in the rain_. “Ambulance is taking the driver away.” _Shane’s baby_. “Witnesses are all yours.” _Carl_. “I took pictures of the scene, but you’ll want to take more.” _Daryl’s mouth slack, unmoving._

Shane nodded, but wasn’t looking at Rick. He was staring off into the expanse behind the road, up into the tree line behind the buildings. “Lori called you, man.”

Not now, Rick thought. Not now, not now. Shane sniffed and continued. “She needs you. Don’t shut her out like this.”

Rick focused on the ground, the little white dots in the concrete, mixed and broken. “I didn’t do this. It was her.”

“Don’t be like that,” Shane said. “She’s calling you. Take the olive branch.”

“She burned that,” Rick said. “Burned a lot of things.”

“You’ll regret this, man,” Shane said, snapping his gaze to Rick.

Rick looked him hard in the eye. “I haven’t got statements yet from the witnesses. You’ll need that, too.” He turned on his heel and walked off, focusing on making his strides long and his pace quick without jogging. He rounded Shane’s car, then the two in the accident, then his own. Crawling in, he slammed the lights off, jerked the steering wheel, and gunned the car forward, spinning out of the scene, putting Shane as far out of his sight as he could.

***

The apartment complex was barren and lonely, cars filled into parking spaces, but no one around to watch them. No one coming, no one going. Too late at night, Rick thought, staring out into the expanse of grays and whites. Rain and night and low lighting.

He had been there for hours, sitting. It was too hard to get out of the car. Too much energy to pull himself into an apartment that was barely livable, a house that was not a home. Beside him, his phone rang for the fifth time, but he didn’t answer it. Didn’t even bother to look if it was Shane or Lori. It didn’t matter. They were practically the same person all molded together--his hands on her like ink that never washes off, pigmented in like lies and Rick’s own failure.

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and released all the air in his lungs, throwing it out into the empty space of his steering wheel. _Go somewhere_ , he told himself. Anywhere. Somewhere away from here. But where was there? His apartment and the office. The apartment too quiet and cold. The office where Shane was, where there was only more paperwork and more villains and more long hours with no proper pay--and Lori was taking all that too. What did Rick have?

Six o’clock and a shitty latte and the way that Daryl looked at Rick like he knew something that even Rick didn’t and what was that? Who was this guy who had strolled so casually up to the front desk and gave Rick that smile that wasn’t a smile? He didn’t know him. He had no idea who he was, but the brother of a thief and a liar. But did it matter, Rick asked himself, when Daryl wasn’t Shane or Lori and wasn’t that enough?

Except he was in the hospital, laying there with blood pooled at the base of his skull and the not knowing was killing Rick. Only he had met this guy a week ago. Why did he even care? But Rick always cared, was always the vigilante, the friend, the serviceman. He was a helper and right now he needed to help someone, something.

So he turned the key in his car, watched the dashboard flare to light. He headed for Parkland Medical Center, the nearest hospital to the accident and the one where he knew he would find Daryl. He pulled into the Emergency Room entrance and hopped out of his vehicle, put on his best face and walked through all business.

The front desk was abuzz, even this late at night. Rick waited in the back until the current rush had checked in before he approached the nurses. “Officer Grimes,” he said, nodding. “I’m checking in on a patient.”

The nurse took one look at his badge and then asked him for the name. “Daryl Dixon,” he said, letting it roll off his tongue like water.

The nurse checked her computer and turned back to him, shaking her head. “That name’s not in my database. Would it be under anything else?”

Rick frowned and shook his head. “No, not that I can think of. He came in an ambulance this evening. Motorcycle accident with a head injury.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh! That’s our John Doe. You know him?”

“John Doe?” Rick asked, thinking about Daryl and his chain wallet at the same time he was thought of the accident, his body laid out on the shoulder.

“Yes,” she nodded. “We couldn’t find any information on him. He’s recovering, but we need his medical information. Can you tell us anything else about him?”

Rick opened his mouth and then shook his head. “...no. I don’t know him that well. We only met a little while ago. But…” he swallowed hard. “ _Shit_.” He squeezed his eyes shut and then rubbed his face vigorously. “I know his brother. Can I borrow your phone?” He asked, having left his cell in the car.

The nurse nodded and Rick dialed the station easily. “Hey,” he said to the night secretary, “this is Grimes. Can you put Merle Dixon on the phone for me? Yeah, the one in cell D. Yeah. Thanks.” He waited until he heard the rough voice of Merle answer.

“What you need now, boy? Your Starbucks friends want something more from me?”

“Merle…” Rick grimaced at the first name. “This is Rick Grimes. I’m at the Parkland hospital. I don’t know if anyone has informed you yet, but Daryl has been in an accident.”

The line was silent for just a second before Merle exploded. “Fuck you do to my baby brother, you asshole? Put him on the phone. Right now.”

“Merle--”

“Right NOW, dammit. Fuck you, you fucking fuck.”

“He’s alive,” Rick cut in. “But he’s unconscious. The doctors here need to know his medical history--”

“Then why the fuck are you talking to me, asswipe? Put them on the phone.”

Rick handed the phone off to a nurse, who sat down with a chart and began filling in missing information. Rick waited silently, thinking of Merle and the panic in his voice.

When the nurse hung up with Merle, Rick was quick to jump in. “So he’ll live?” he asked, the question heavy in the air.

The nurse nodded. “There are good signs.”

“What...what happened?” he asked.

The nurse smiled shyly at him. “I’m sorry, Officer. You’re not family.”

Rick nodded. “I understand. Look, I’m glad to help anyway I can.” He added his number down to the list of information the nurse had received, pleading her to call him if anything came up.

***

Rick woke the next morning to the light green ceiling of the Quality Inn rather than the white tile of his apartment. The hotel room felt more like a living place and less like a tomb and he breathed easily into the sounds of the living in the rooms next to him and the hall.

He pulled himself out of bed, grabbed a quick shower, and then headed to his house for a change of clothes. Freshly dressed, he started his shift on patrol, dragging through the day until he rolled into the station around two.

He had barely made it through the doors before Traci was rushing up to him. “Merle Dixon wants a _word_ with you,” she said, “and I wouldn’t say no.”

Rick nodded and headed back to the cells. “How is he?” Traci called. Rick looked back at her, knowing she was asking about Daryl and not sure how to answer the question. He just nodded and she seemed to understand.

Rick walked in and sat in the interrogation room across from Merle, who was glaring daggers at him. “This is what’s gonna happen, swine boy,” Merle said, leaning forward on the table and locking eyes with Rick. “That’s my baby brother in that hospital. My only brother and all my kin. And I know you’re somehow responsible for it and don’t you tell me you’re not. Now, you’re going to do old Merle a favor because he’s asking you to and I’m just sitting up here in jail and I can’t even look to see if Daryl’s alive. So I called that pussy little hospital of yours and I talked to that little nurse and she said that as long as I told you you could that you were going to check in on him. Every damn day and don’t you think that I won’t kick your ass even through cell bars if you even think about skipping your American duty.”

“You want me to check in on him?” Rick asked.

“Every. Damn. Day.” Merle said, frowning so hard, Rick was sure his jaw was about to fall off.

Rick thought about arguing for the sake of it, but he couldn’t think of a good reason to, so he simply nodded and stood. “I will. I’ll tell you how he’s doing.”

“His skull’s cracked,” Merle said, “He’s doing pretty shitty right now.”

Rick frowned himself. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

***

Work ended and Rick found himself at the hospital, asking for an update on Daryl. The nurse checked her clipboard and computer before giving him the rundown he had so desperately wanted the previous night.

“The base of his skull was fractured on impact and he had a severe concussion, but no internal injuries that we can see. It was a good thing we got there quick, though, because injuries like this can be dangerous, especially when the patient is losing cerebrospinal fluid like he was. The doctors have patched him up, though, and luckily the bone that was broken didn’t protrude inward. He should be awake soon--”

“He’s not?” Rick interrupted.

“No,” the nurse continued. “Honestly, he should have woken up by now. We are monitoring him, but there’s nothing more we can do except wait for him to wake up.”

Rick swallowed. “Can I see him?”

“Yes, but not for very long. Visiting hours are ending shortly and we need to watch his brain functions to see that he comes out of this.”

Rick nodded and let himself be led back to where Daryl was lying in a hospital bed half propped up, an IV in his arm and monitors attached to his chest and head. What was he going to tell Merle, Rick thought, if he didn’t wake up?

The nurse left him alone in the room and the second the door closed, Rick felt suddenly on edge and embarrassed. He rubbed his forehead and walked forward a step or two to look at Daryl--his eyes closed and his shoulders slack, hands open and empty. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Rick said to the room, “it’s not like I know you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry this happened. You’ll come out of it, they think. So that’s good.” He paused, looking around at the barren room and its white-washed walls. “It’s kind of somber in here. I’ll ask Traci is she wants to get flowers or something. That will be nice. Even though I don’t think you’re much of a flower guy.”

He frowned, standing in the room awkwardly, not knowing where to move or how to walk away. Or how to stay. Eventually, though, he turned and walked through the door, the loud clack of his boots echoing. He made it as far as the waiting room before he collapsed in a chair in the corner, pinching the bridge of his nose and willing his mind to be silent for just one second.

***

Rick woke at two a.m. as the doors to the emergency room flung open and an obviously pregnant woman being helped along by a yelling, cursing man approached the desk. Rick blinked at the surroundings and watched as the nurses calmed the man down and placed the woman in a wheelchair, pushing her off and through the double doors that separated those that needed medical care from those pitiful few who could only wait.

An elderly woman sitting across from Rick saw him wake, gave a small shake of her head and returned to her magazine. Rick sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and cursing himself for being so weak as to rather spend the night in a hospital than return home to a comfortable bed and a locked door. He stood and stretched, cracked his neck for good measure and loosened all his limbs.

He dug his keys out of his pocket, intent on driving home, but before he could bring himself to leave, he approached the desk and asked the attendant if there was any change in Daryl Dixon. The man checked the monitors quickly and then nodded confidently.

“Yeah. He woke up about three hours ago.”

Rick blinked, the flood of relief almost overwhelming. “He did, huh?” Rick asked and the attendant nodded again. “And he’s...alright?”

“Looks like he’s been in and out of it and is not quite coherent yet, but the doctors think he’ll be just fine. We’ll have to wait and see if there was any permanent mental damage until he is fully conscious, but it looks like he’s coming out of it.”

Rick closed his eyes and stood for a minute, nodding. “Thanks. Thank God. When are visiting hours?”

“He’s being moved from ICU to the third floor, so you can come back in the morning. He should be settled by nine after we run some tests and that section has open hours all day.”

Rick nodded. “Thanks. Thank you.”

He turned away, walking through the doors with more confidence than he’d felt in days. He drove home, unlocked his door with vigor and forced himself to fall into his dull, gray bed and sleep.

***

The next day Rick was off work and he hated days like this. Before, with his family, they were the light of his life. He had the time to play ball with Carl, take him to games, teach him how to fish. He and Lori had date night on Wednesdays, mostly ending up at Angelo Terra’s Ristorante on 8th and Main, but sometimes Mike’s, Hilltop Pizzeria, and once or twice Taco Bell.

It was different now, though. Now, there was no Carl to play with and no Lori to take out. There were no family gatherings or movie nights or Monopoly games. Even his old standard, swinging back a couple with his best friend, was gone.

So there was absolutely nothing keeping him from rising out of bed the second he woke up at six a.m., after only a few hours of fitful sleep. He showered quickly and put on a pair of comfortable jeans and a button down light blue shirt that he had bought after Lori. He was out of the house by seven thirty, which was too early to hit the hospital, so he found himself aimlessly walking downtown to kill time.

Most of the shops were just opening and he had really no interest in shopping, but as he passed by the local flower store, he stopped. He was sure that Traci would want to get Daryl some form of get well flowers--she was very flower happy, that girl. And really, he thought, it was his day off, so he might as well pick them out for her to save her time. He could swing by the station, ask her if she wanted to sign the card and then bring them to the hospital. It made him feel a little better, too, not to walk in just empty handed.

He entered the store slowly, looking around at the variety of shapes and colors. It felt strange to be here and not to be thinking of Lori, but it did help that his usual shop was on the other side of town and he’d never actually been to this one before. There were lines of roses, tulips, lilies, and daisies. There were bouquets named “Fun and Frilly,” “Sunshine and Sweet,” “Hugs and Kisses” and then simpler ones like “Serenity” and “Joy.”

Each set was bigger and grander than the next. Yellows as bright as the sun, pinks and oranges that screamed sunset, deep reds that spoke of desire. Nothing right at all, Rick thought, for a biker just coming out of a concussion. He wandered the lines, looking at each tag, trying to find something that didn’t look quite so girly and _datey_.

And then he saw in the corner a small table set up with a little sign: “Local Wildflowers.” The bouquets were modest and nonchalant. Quiet and subtle. The tiny Georgia flowers sat in the midst of the larger scale peonies and hydrangeas, holding their own with natural blues, yellows, and whites. He picked up one, covered in bluets and rue anemone, one carolina lily standing tall in the center. He leaned forward to put his nose next to the flowers and took in the smell of the South, long grasses, pine trees, and cypress swamps. He thought of Daryl-- _decided to take out the bad feelings on squirrels with arrows_ \--and guessed it was as good as he would get for an outdoors kind of guy tanned by the Georgia sun.

***

Rick stopped by the office to have Traci sign the card. She was thrilled that he had thought of the idea and mentioned that she was going to order flowers this afternoon, but was glad he had got the jump on her. He left the flowers at the front momentarily to update Merle on Daryl’s recovery and then took them to the hospital. He made it there at nine sharp and found his way to room 312, lightly knocking on the door as he walked in.  

Daryl was asleep, so Rick slowly slunk in and put the flowers down next to him on the small endtable. He was about to leave when he heard Daryl grunt. Turning around, Rick saw his brow furrowed, a frown heavy on his face. Daryl shifted and then slowly opened his eyes to find Rick above him. For a second, his expression was bright, filled with emotion that Rick could almost grasp and that made him feel warm and comfortable, but filled with a nervous rush of energy, blazing and confounding.

Then Daryl blinked and his cautious expression was back. He turned his head to cough and Rick took a step back. “I was checking in on you for Merle,” Rick explained. “Sorry if I startled you.”

Daryl shook his head. “No. Figured,” he coughed again and then cleared his throat. “Dry. Damn nurses won’t get me any water.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Figured I’d never see you again.”

Rick didn’t know what to do with that information, so he pushed on. “Well, here I am. Want me to get you some water?”

Daryl looked at him and then just turned his head to the side. Rick walked into the hall quickly and came back just as hurriedly with a glass of water, handing it to Daryl as soon as he reached out for it. Rick watched him struggle to sit up and drink and then struggle to lay back down.

“God,” Daryl said, squeezing his eyes shut, “head hurts. Guess that’s what I get for being a dumbass who can’t drive.”

“The witnesses said it was the car in front of you that caused the accident.”

“Wouldn’t have been no accident if I could drive in the rain like I should be able to,” Daryl said and then swallowed hard. He looked at the endtable, seeing the flowers for the first time. “What’s this? Merle joking around again?”

“Traci and I got it for you,” Rick said. “I...I thought it was the least I could do after talking to you like that.” He shrugged. Daryl reached for the flowers, held one of the bluets between his index finger and thumb. He looked at the lily. “Carolina, huh?” He scoffed. “Atamasco’s better. But thanks.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. You’re welcome. We hope you get better. And I’m...sorry. I’d like to say that I was sorry.”

Daryl shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You were just pissy. I get it. No need to feel guilty over that stupid of a thing.”

“No, I still should apologize.” Rick sat down in the chair by the bed, staring at his hands. “I’ve been through a lot lately and I don’t expect you to know that because we don’t even really know each other. But I shouldn’t have said that thing about Traci. You seem like a nice guy and she’s a really good girl. You should go for it if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.”

“Traci?” Daryl said, frowning hard and turning all his attention on Rick.

“Yeah,” Rick said. “I’m sorry about what I said. About you flirting with her. You should go for it.”

Daryl shook his head and looked up at the ceiling, his eyes boring into it. “I’m not interested in Traci.”

“Why not?” Rick asked. “She’s nice.”

“I’m sure she’s nice,” Daryl said, “doesn’t mean I’m interested.”

Rick frowned. “Then why….” He stopped and asked the question a different way. “Have you really been coming to the station that frequently just for Merle?”

“Nah,” Daryl said, “Merle’s a dick.” Rick frowned harder and opened his mouth to follow-up, when Daryl cut him off. “Tell me something else. Something to get my mind off the fact that I’m stuck here and I’m missing a piece of my damn skull.”

Rick sighed. “What do you want me to tell you?”

“Why were you so pissy? If you want to apologize.”

Rick shrugged and looked at the flowers, studying the small bluets burying in the larger plants. “It’s not very interesting of a story.”

“Well, I’ve got you or Judge Judy,” Daryl said, “And it’s all repeats for me. So talk.”

Rick shook his head to refuse, but then thought better of it. He hadn’t talked about it. Hadn’t had anyone to tell. Everyone at the station knew Shane and wouldn’t necessarily side with him, but would make excuses to get them to talk to each other again. All his other friends knew Lori and most knew both. He needed to vent, to just let it out. To talk about what a bitch Lori was, what a bastard Shane was.

“Divorce,” he said and nodded. “A bad one.” He laughed. “Really bad. My wife…” he swallowed. “She had an affair. With my best friend. My partner.”

“Kids?” Daryl asked.

“One,” Rick said. “Carl. He’s twelve. Lori had a damn good lawyer and so now I can’t see him. I’m fighting it, but…” he shrugged. “I don’t even know how he’s doing. And she’s pregnant. The bitch is _pregnant_. With Shane’s baby.” Rick let out a hard breath and put the heel of his hand to his eye. “She keeps calling me. Constantly. All the time my phone is ringing--where’s the child support check, we need to change our wills, you need to keep me on your damn insurance until the open period so I can switch to _Shane’s_ \---and I just can’t…” He swallowed down the lump in his throat, telling himself he wouldn’t do this here. “I can’t take it.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “She keeps telling me to be nice and to be civil. To be mature. Like she’s not crawling into bed on top of him and…”

He let the sentence hang in the air, thick in the hospital room. His eyes still closed, he couldn’t see Daryl, couldn’t see how he was reacting, if it was with pity or boredom. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t...I barely know you. I’m sorry.”

Daryl cleared his throat. “Damn. Thought I said I _didn’t_ want Judy.”

It was so absurd, Rick laughed around his choking throat and looked at Daryl, who was gazing back at him without pity or boredom, but with something else like understanding. Comfort. “I feel like a selfish prick,” Rick said, “taking up your time with my problems.”

Daryl shrugged. “What else am I going to do? Fucking hate hospitals, man. Nothing ever good comes out of them. Why are you here anyway? You didn’t come to tell me any of that.”

“No,” Rick said. “Like I told you. I’m checking in on you for Merle.”

“Merle can call now that I’m awake.”

Rick shrugged. “You want the truth?” Daryl nodded. “I’m bored. And my life has gone to shit. It’s my day off and I don’t know what else to do with myself. You’re the only person I can think to talk to and isn’t that sad? It’s pathetic.”

“You calling me pathetic?” Daryl asked and then immediately started laughing when Rick tried to explain himself. “Man, let’s stop talking about all this depressing shit.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. That’s not doing anything for any of us.” He sighed, trying to come up with something in his life to talk about that was light. Small talk. “Thanks for the mocha,” he ended on.

“You like it?” Daryl asked.

Rick opened his mouth to lie, but decided this was Daryl and from what he knew about the guy, the truth was best. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “No. I like--”

“Don’t tell me,” Daryl jumped in. “I’m going to find out.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I just said it?”

Daryl shrugged. “Not as fun.”

“You’re going to waste a lot of coffee,” Rick said and Daryl scoffed.

“Worth it,” he said, grinning at Rick. “I need to know something about you. And I mean you, not your dumb ex-wife and her new dick toy.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Rick said. “It’s hard for me to think about me without them. I’m just trying to find myself again, I guess.”

“That’s pansy shit,” Daryl told him. “You are who you are. You just gotta stop worrying about it so much.”

After that, they fell into easy conversation about sports and hunting (although Rick hadn’t been in years). They talked about the weather and about cars. Briefly hit on Merle and some of his past offenses. Before long, the sun was high in the afternoon and Daryl’s eyelids were drooping, his grins becoming less frequent and more tired. Rick stood and excused himself so that Daryl could rest, told him he would be back tomorrow and not to worry about Merle, that Rick would talk to him.

Rick left the hospital and for the first time in a long time, his footsteps felt easier.

***

Rick slapped the pizza box down on the kitchen bar and threw the lid open, grabbing a piece and letting it hang out of his mouth as he reached into the fridge for a coke. He managed to make it two slices and half a bottle in before the familiar buzzing started. Steeling himself, he answered.

“Rick,” she said, “I wanted to know if you ever got us an appointment to discuss our wills?”

“No,” he set, pulling the phone further from his ear and taking a large bite of the pizza he was working on.

She sighed. “I know that you’re probably busy, but I think this is very important, so please, Rick. For me. Can you call?”

Rick swallowed and took a swig of his drink, before setting it down on the counter. “Lori, I--”

“If not for me, then for Carl?”

Rick bristled, clutching the phone. He pulled it back toward him, pressing it next to his ear. “Fine, Lori. Fine, I’ll call. But this is _not for you_.” He hung up, tossed the phone down and took a good long look at the pizza in front of him, suddenly not hungry anymore.

He threw the leftovers in the fridge and then sat on the couch, pulling his sketchbook out that he had brought home the previous day. He flipped to the page he was working on, a fictional man with a squared jaw and narrow, dangerous eyes. He started to fill in the blanks--the nose and the hairline, the shape of the ears. But everything looked off to him, something not quite right that he couldn’t put his finger on.

He erased the jaw, started again, changed the eyes to be less narrowed and more open, but still staring forward intently. He changed the nose to lighten it, set the cheekbones a little higher. He curved the mouth upwards more, just at the corners, flushed out the medium length hair.

And then he stopped.

Rick took a deep breath and stared down at the page he had created and at Daryl Dixon looking up at him through the pencil lines. He shut the book and tossed it to the side of the couch, putting a hand against his mouth and staring hard into the kitchen. He thought of what the rest of him would look like--the shape of his shoulders, how they easily rose and fell when he shrugged, the nod of his head and how he could speak volumes in that one action, the tilt of his collarbone (when had he noticed that?), the curve of his hip. Rick closed his eyes and let himself imagine Daryl, what his skin would feel like, the heat of his body.

And then Rick was up and off the couch, pacing, his mind tangled and raw. He hadn’t had feelings like this. Not since...Shane, his mind supplied. Shane in the early years. High school, police academy, police cars in which they were too close all of the time, almost touching but never making it there. Never crossing that line. And then there had been Lori and that was good. And Rick forgot all about it.

And now here he was. He covered his hands in his face and knelt in the carpet of the sparse living room. Here he was.

***

Rick tried as hard as he could to avoid the hospital the next day, but his resolve wore out by lunchtime. His second day off had been no easier than his first and he found himself easily taking the hospital steps to room 312 and easily sliding in, smiling at Daryl and watching Daryl smile back and wondering just what this was.

“I brought coffee,” Rick said, holding up two styrofoam cups.

“The kind you like?” Daryl asked.

Rick smiled. “Black,” he said and handed Daryl one of the cups.

“Atta boy,” Daryl said and began drinking. Rick watched him and noticed that his color was better and that he was looking less tired. He swallowed the coffee easily and sat back. “Another day off?” Daryl asked and Rick nodded. “Could turn on old Judy,” Daryl suggested, but Rick shook his head.

“I came to ask you something.”

“Alright,” Daryl said and shifted just the smallest amount, barely perceptible to anyone who wasn’t watching Daryl as if the movements of his body held the keys to the universe.

“Why did you keep coming to the precinct?” Rick asked.

Daryl frowned. “That doesn’t matter. Let’s just talk about this nurse that keeps not bringing me things I SPECIFICALLY ask for. She---”

“Daryl,” Rick cut in and took a deep breath. “Why? Why did you keep showing up at the office?”

Daryl sighed, his whole body deflating against the bed. He looked down at the coffee cup and then up at Rick, his expression guarded and cold. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“Look, you…” Daryl sighed. “I’ve never been that good at radar. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to have? Well, I’m shitty at it. I was just being stupid and it doesn’t matter. Just stay and talk to me about something else. I hate being alone and…” He shrugged.

“Radar?” Rick asked, afraid to say what he really meant.

Daryl set his jaw. “I was hitting on you, dumbass. Fine. Okay? I said it. I was hitting on you cause I thought you looked cool in that stupid hat and Merle nearly kicked my ass because of it and he can always tell, the shit. But I thought I...I don’t know. I thought I saw something or... It doesn’t matter. You’re clearly…” he swallowed hard and bit the word out, “ _straight_ and so it doesn’t matter.”

“And you’re...not straight?” Rick tried to clarify.

Daryl shook his head. “I always think it’s pretty fucking obvious, but no one else does. I’m a good old boy, but yeah. I’m…” he swallowed. “Gay. God, I hate saying that.”

“And you were _hitting_ on me.”

“Yes, dipshit.”

Rick sat down in the chair hard, the coffee in his hands forgotten. “Ah, man,” Daryl said, shaking his head and looking out the window. “Don’t be like that. Just...if you’re going to be an ass about how a dude likes you, then you can just leave, cause I don’t want to deal with that right now.”

Rick looked at him, studying him, and then opened his mouth and carefully spoke. “I...no one has hit on me since…” He laughed. “No one has hit on me since high school. Shit. I guess I don’t even know what it looks like.”

“It looks like me buying you coffee when I’m damn ass broke is what it looks like,” Daryl said.

Rick cleared his throat. “I, um, I’ve never...I’m not good at dating and I’ve never,” he took a second to compose himself, to gather the strength to say it. “I’ve never dated a guy before. But my life is kind of upside down right now anyway, and I guess you’re the best part of it, so…” Daryl stared at him and Rick felt his face blush hot and red. “So there’s that?” he asked, tentatively.

Daryl looked him up and down and Rick had never felt so on display, so nervous and off kilter. “I get out tomorrow,” Daryl said. “We could ignore the doctor’s orders and get shit-faced drunk.”

Rick let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Yeah,” he said and smiled. “Yeah, I would like that.” Daryl smiled back at him and Rick felt warm.

***

Rick had always thought it was stupid and silly all those girls in the movies that threw their clothes on their bed and tried to figure out what would look best on their first date, what lipstick would go with what, what purse and what shoes. But here he was, all of his seven outfits littering his bedroom floor, nothing just right. Nothing what he wanted.

Looks too much like a cop. Too worn. Looks too old. Doesn’t match his boots. Or should he wear the sneakers? Dammit, he thought to himself, this was stupid. He stood and threw on his black jeans and his green shirt...and then threw them off and put on the light jeans and the brown shirt. And then threw those off too.

Fifteen minutes before Daryl was supposed to arrive, he finally managed to decide on a plain navy blue T-shirt and slightly worn jeans that he had always thought clung to him a little too much. He refused to look at himself in the mirror one more time because he knew that he would change and there were only so many combinations of this shirt and that jeans that a man could make.

He sat in his living room tapping his foot impatiently and checking the time every ten seconds. Thirteen minutes to go and he stood up to pace. Eleven and he sat down again. Ten and he took out his phone, thought about leaving it, but decided to pocket it for emergencies. Nine and he opened the fridge to drink a gallon of water, but put it back because he didn’t want to have to piss ten minutes into his date. Eight and he was now thinking about how this was a date.

Lucky for Rick, the doorbell rang at seven minutes to. He rushed to the door and threw it open, found Daryl leaning in the doorway in a band T-shirt and leather jacket, his eyes pure sex. To Rick’s utter humiliation, he squeaked.

Daryl noticed and grinned predatorily. Rick cleared his throat and tried again. “Hi. Do you want to come in?”

“Nah,” Daryl said. “I want to hit the town. Been in that damn hospital too long. Let’s do this.” Daryl turned around and started to walk down the steps from Rick’s apartment. Rick quickly grabbed his wallet and his keys, shut the door behind him and jogged down the stairs to catch up with Daryl.

“Where are we going?” Rick asked, thoroughly sure that Daryl was leading the charge in all this.

“Well,” Daryl said, stopping at the bottom of the steps and turning to look at him. “I figured we’d ride down to the creek a ways.” He stepped up one step so that he was in Rick’s personal space and smiled. “Then I thought I’d stop by that store on 7th and grab us some drinks. Then,” he pointed up past Rick, “thought that your roof up there would be a good place to settle in. I plan to get drunk off my ass and I hate taxis. Be nice to have a place just to go to when we’re good and sloshed.” He held up his hands. “But I’m on the couch, if you want.”

Rick swallowed and tried to put on his best seduction face, even if it was rusty. “Or not, if I don’t want.” It must have worked because he watched Daryl’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Rick walked down the stairs past Daryl. “My car?”

“No,” Daryl scoffed, “my bike. It was _perfectly_ fine, just a couple of paint jobs that need to be touched up.”

“You don’t want to ride in the _front_ of a police car?” Rick asked, smiling.

“You don’t want to ride on the back of my bike and use that as a flimsy excuse to touch me?”

Rick laughed. “Car’s safer.”

Daryl shrugged. “Bike’s better.” He reached out slowly and took hold of Rick’s wrist for just a second, his thumb pressing on the pulse point. Rick’s nerves kicked into overdrive, his breathing shallow and rushed. It was the first time that they had touched and Rick found Daryl’s hands just like the rest of him--open and honest. He nodded and Daryl released his wrist and turned, leading the way to his bike.

Daryl swung onto the bike like it was a part of him and handed Rick the second helmet. Rick took it, staring at the glossy black, thinking about the shoulder of roads and blood pooled at the base of skulls. Daryl looked back and then slowly took the helmet from him. “We can do the car,” he said, softening. “If you--”

“No,” Rick said, nodding. “This is fine. It’s great.” He swung himself onto the back of the bike, putting the helmet on. “At least it’s not raining.”

Daryl paused. “I’m usually better than that,” he said.

Rick nodded. “I know. I understand.”

Daryl started up the bike and took a minute to reach behind him, grabbing Rick’s hand. He pulled his arm over and around Daryl’s stomach, smiling over his shoulder. “This is the best part,” he said, reaching for his own helmet.

Rick smiled back and slowly snuck the other arm around him, feeling the hard muscles underneath his shirt, his tense body. “It’s weird,” Rick admitted.

“Just think about whether you want to keep doing it,” Daryl said and Rick tightened his grip in answer.

***

They drove to the city park and followed the creek from there east. After five miles or so, they ended up in open country, the buildings diminishing to trees and tall grass. There was little traffic and the late afternoon was warm and freeing. Rick noticed that Daryl wasn’t driving as fast as he was probably used to--whether that was from the accident or for Rick’s sake, Rick couldn’t tell.

They turned corners smoothly, Daryl driving gracefully on the open country road. Every time they leaned, Rick could feel the small movements of Daryl’s muscles underneath his clothes and let those small changes direct his own. He was tense and relaxed at the same time, comfortable and nervous. But every time he would reach the edge and almost ask Daryl what this was and what they were doing, Daryl would reach out, place his hand over Rick’s or lean back into Rick just slightly and all of Rick’s worries would melt away until there was just the countryside and just Daryl.

They stopped at a small diner twenty miles down the road and ate. Daryl told Rick stories of Merle as a teenager and Rick responded with stories of dumb arrests and lighter, fun times with his family. They laughed easily together, sitting in the back corner of the restaurant, Daryl’s leg pressed up between Rick’s.

Then they drove back into town, stopped at the store on 7th. Rick waited while Daryl walked into the store, coming back with a twelve pack of Natural Light. Rick looked at the cans and laughed. “Seriously? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“What? A white boy with Natty Light. Why? What do you want, pinot noir or some shit?” Daryl asked, intentionally pronouncing it wrong.

Rick smiled. “No, it’s fine. Whatever you want.”

Daryl smiled down at him and then leaned in. Rick’s heart skipped a beat for a second wondering if this was _The Moment_ , but Daryl stopped just short of his mouth. “I know what I want,” he whispered and then climbed back on the bike. “I’m going to take you up to that roof and then we’re going to drink ourselves silly and then later,” he smiled over his shoulder at Rick and winked, letting the sentence hang in the air.

Rick leaned the front of his body forward, while strategically keeping his hips away from Daryl. He slid one arm around him again, sliding it up and under his shirt this time, feeling the way Daryl sucked in his breath and then let it out.

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” Daryl muttered and Rick couldn’t find it in himself to care.

***

The phone rang two and a half cans in while Daryl was leaning against the concrete railing of the roof and Rick was slid up close enough to him to feel the heat from Daryl’s body.

At the first sound of the ringtone, Rick looked down, frowning hard at the street below. On the second ring, he took out his phone.

“That her?” Daryl asked.

Rick nodded and set his jaw, unable to verbally respond.

“You going to take it?” Daryl asked and Rick looked up at the horizon, the softening sunset.

“Yeah,” he said softly and slid his finger over the answer button. “Hey, Lori,” he said and shut down as he listened to her ask about the will and about the storage unit they would need to clean out together. He responded in clipped tones--yes, he had called. No, he couldn’t do it tomorrow. He didn’t know. Maybe the day after.

He asked about Carl. She responded by talking about Shane. She told him she had the check, that they could switch insurances at the end of the month. She reminded him to call the trash company. She told him the ultrasound had gone well.

He was shaking by the time that Daryl took the phone from his hand and ended the call. He squeezed his eyes shut, his body sliding down to sit on the roof, back to the concrete railing. Daryl sat down next to him, silently offering him a third can.

Rick took it, but didn’t open it.

“What a bitch,” Daryl offered.

Rick nodded. “Yeah.” He put the can against his head, felt the condensation on his hot skin. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Daryl said. “That bitch’s fault, not yours.”

“I should have put it on silent,” he said and then swallowed, tried to blink, but it came flooding out of him like sand bursting from a jar, like white hot light, like rain. He choked through it, “I should _always_ put that goddamn phone on _silent_.”

To Daryl’s credit, he didn’t shy away, simply hooked his arm around Rick’s neck and brought him into his chest, let Rick soak his shirt with emotion that had been building for months, for years. “I never loved her,” he whispered, “only I did. And I didn’t. And Shane...I loved him, too.”

“I know,” Daryl told him, “but it’s fine. You’re fine.”

“I’m not,” Rick sobbed, “I never will be. How can I…?”

“One day at a time,” Daryl told him. “That’s all you’ve got to do. Just take it one day at a time and don’t answer your fucking--” the phone rang, nestled into Daryl’s left hand. Rick reached for it and Daryl glared, jerked it away and answered it.

“He’s busy,” Daryl growled into the phone and hung up.

“She’ll call back,” Rick whispered weakly.

“No, she won’t.” Daryl said, untangling himself from Rick and standing. He looked off into the distance where the skyline of the town was lighting up in the darkness. He reared back and threw the phone as far as he could. Rick watched it sail across the roof and down into the street, leaning up so he could see past the railing to where it shattered, broken electronic pieces pouring out onto the sidewalk. “Bitch will never call you again if I have anything to say about it,” he said.

Rick nodded solemnly and closed his eyes in relief. He put his forehead against the concrete. “You destroyed police property,” he told Daryl.

Daryl scoffed. “Arrest me in the morning. I’m not done drinking.” He picked up the can from where Rick had dropped it and popped the tab, thrusting it at Rick. “Here. Drink up and let’s forget about exes and dumb shit like that.”

Rick looked at him in the fading light, kneeling next to him with the can clutched in his hand, the city blurred behind him and his face in perfect focus.

“Kiss me,” Rick said and Daryl blinked.

“Now?”

“Yes, just…” Rick squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, locking his gaze on Daryl. “Show me that someone cares. That someone thinks about me and gives a damn and...that someone wants me. Just please…”

“God, you are a stupid son of a bitch,” Daryl told him, setting the can down. He leaned forward and his mouth was on Rick’s, hot like fire. His fingers were tangled in Rick’s hair, whose own hands were ghosting over Daryl’s chest, clutching at his shirt and pulling him in. Daryl pressed their mouths together, tilted his head at just the perfect angle and dove into Rick like Rick had been wanting him to all night.

Rick moaned and pushed himself against Daryl’s chest and Daryl reached for him, pulled him half into his lap. He wrapped an arm around Rick’s neck and slowly opened Rick’s mouth with his tongue. Rick melted against him, let his own tongue meet Daryl’s, let Daryl’s hands roam on his body.

Rick pulled off, swallowing hard, and before he lost the nerve, he whispered against Daryl’s mouth. “Take me downstairs. I need you.”

Daryl looked up at him, but Rick couldn’t see his expression, the night having set and the city dark around them. Then Daryl pushed him away and stood. Rick was just about to apologize, come up with some flimsy way in which he could have been misinterpreting things, but then Daryl was holding his hand out for Rick. Rick took it and let himself be pulled up and to his astonishment, Daryl didn’t let go. Instead he threaded his fingers in Rick’s hand and led him down the stairs and to Rick’s own apartment.

Once they were at the door, Daryl let Rick move forward to unlock it. Rick fished for his keys and found the right one just as Daryl stepped behind Rick and started sucking on the sweet spot where Rick’s neck met his collarbone. Rick fumbled trying to put the keys in the door and then closed his eyes, leaning back against Daryl and into his mouth. “Stop or I’m never going to get this open,” he said and chuckled.

“Could take you here,” Daryl whispered, “Right in the hall.” He scraped his teeth down Rick’s ear and Rick shivered, his knees threatening to buckle.

“Jesus, let me get inside my house.”

Daryl laughed into his ear, kissed his neck quickly, and moved back to let Rick open the door. Rick pushed his way inside and Daryl followed suit, paying no attention to the lack of furniture or color. As soon as the door closed, Rick blushed. “I’ve never--”

“I know,” Daryl said and came forward, kissed him again hard, pushing him up against the wall and putting feeling into every move of his lips against Rick’s.

“No,” Rick said when they broke apart. “I mean I’ve never even...in this _apartment_.”

Daryl’s eyes darkened. “Not with her?”

“No,” Rick said. “I want this to be us.” He hesitated and then put his hands on Daryl’s hips, looked up at him pleadingly. “I need this and I want this apartment--that bed, I want that bed--to be us.”

“You’re sure?” Daryl asked and Rick nodded quickly.

“Us,” Rick said. “You.” He leaned forward, capturing Daryl’s lip between his own and sucked. Daryl groaned against him and pushed him into the wall again, angling his hips to Rick’s this time and Rick felt the length of Daryl against his thigh.

Daryl kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jawline and then this neck. He groaned and thrust against Rick just the tiniest bit, but it was enough to cause him to gasp, to tangle his hand in Daryl’s hair.

“I need you naked,” Daryl whispered against his skin, and it was the hottest thing Rick had ever heard. He looked at him, his eyes half-lidded, and pushed Daryl away.

“Bedroom,” he whispered and turned to walk there while he still could, knowing that Daryl was following right behind him. And sure thing, once they were in the door, Daryl was pushing him back into the bed and they were falling onto the sheets and the pile of clothing that Rick had rejected from earlier and been too foolish to clean up. Rick flung the clothes off the bed as Daryl crawled over him, kissing his neck, his collarbone and then lifting his shirt to kiss his chest.

Rick threw his head back and arched himself into Daryl, who was straddling him, kissing every inch of his body he could reach. “You can’t tell me to get my clothes off and then not let me--” Rick started, but Daryl was kissing him again before he could finish and they fell down, tangled in one another, roaming hands and hot mouths, all tongue and angles.

“Jesus,” Rick said when they came up for air again and Daryl smiled.

“No, baby, just me.” He kissed Rick again, this time closed-mouth and almost sweet, before pulling away and throwing his own jacket and shirt off. Rick watched him, fascinated, and as Daryl looked back down at him, half naked and flushed, Rick felt himself twitch and harden even more.

“I need you,” Rick whispered and leaned up, pulling off his shirt and tossing it in the corner, forgotten. “I need to _feel_ you.” He leaned forward, put his mouth on Daryl’s collarbone, thought about the angle of it, the sketch he had drawn, the way the mention of Daryl put his blood on fire.

Daryl laughed breathlessly and nodded, kissing Rick again and running his hands down his chest to his belt. While Daryl’s tongue was busy in his mouth, Daryl’s hands were busy undoing Rick. He lifted his hips and let Daryl pull the rest of his clothing off.

Daryl sat up, leaving him again to finish removing his own clothes and then this was it. Rick paused. They were both fully naked, him laying on his bed, Daryl on top of him and this was the last moment in which he could turn this down. The last second in which he could decide to wake up from this crazy dream that made nervous as hell but ridiculously thrilled.

He nodded at Daryl and Daryl smiled and nodded back. And then he was over him again, pressing his full body into Rick and Rick moaned loudly, opening his legs for Daryl to settle between and then Daryl was rocking against his thigh and it was hard and hot and perfect.

“You want this?” Daryl asked him, hand cradling his neck, lips inches from Rick’s own.

Rick nodded. “More than anything.” He kissed Daryl quickly and then reached for the jeans he had thrown off, fished in the pocket, and pulled out a small bottle purchased that morning. “Here?” he said and cursed himself for his unsure voice, for the blush he was sure Daryl could feel radiating from below him.

Daryl took the bottle and kissed Rick’s temple. “It’ll be good. I promise.”

Rick nodded. “I know. I’m not worried. I know.” He paused before taking a shaky breath. “It’s with you.”

Daryl leaned over him and kissed him slowly and Rick could feel Daryl’s smile against his lips, the happiness pouring out of him. Daryl’s hands moved over Rick’s body, down his neck, his chest, his sides. He wrapped one hand around Rick’s knee and pulled his leg up so that it was wrapped around Daryl’s waist, all the time moving his mouth against Rick’s.

Rick vaguely heard the sound of the bottle snapping open, but Daryl’s tongue in his mouth was too distracting for him to give a damn. He arched up against Daryl, his hard cock rubbing against Daryl’s stomach. Daryl smiled against his lips again and then reached down with his right hand to stroke Rick at the same time that he slid one finger up inside him.

Rick gasped out Daryl’s name and bucked up into him. Daryl laughed against his mouth and kissed Rick’s jaw and then sucked on his Adam’s apple as he moved his fingers inside Rick. Rick watched the ceiling, focusing on his breathing and the movement of Daryl’s lips against his neck. Daryl gave him a long stroke, rubbing his thumb against the head and Rick closed his eyes.

“Almost,” Daryl whispered to him and slid another finger inside him. Rick fought between moving forward into Daryl’s hand or back onto his fingers and in the end set himself into a rocking motion. “You ready?” Daryl asked him and Rick gasped into the darkness.

“I want you so bad,” Rick said, practically crawling out of his skin with need. “Please, Daryl, God. Please fuck me.” He put his forehead against Daryl’s, closed his eyes, and let Daryl lead him, arrange him, press their chests together. And then Daryl was pushing forward, into him and he dug his nails into Daryl’s back, tensing up.

“No, baby, relax,” Daryl said into his ear and Rick focused on releasing the tension in his muscles. “Kiss me, Rick. Show me you need me.” Rick didn’t hesitate, but turned his head to Daryl and found his lips easily as if he’d been doing it his whole life. He let himself fall into Daryl, into his mouth, into the feeling of Daryl pressed over him, covering him, protecting him. Daryl slowly pressed forward and it was perfect because Rick finally felt like he belonged, like he was whole.

“Fuck me,” Rick gasped against Daryl, threading one hand in his hair and the other digging into his back. “Just fuck me.” And then Daryl was, slow and long thrusts at first, but gaining speed. Rick grunted and then put his mouth on Daryl’s shoulder, kissed it first and then bit down, muffling his small grunts and moans against Daryl’s skin.

Daryl bucked forward and wrapped one arm around Rick’s back, but kept the other stroking him in rhythm with his thrusts. “Rick,” Daryl whispered and that was enough to cause his cock to twitch in Daryl’s hand. “You’re perfect,” Daryl told him, “God, you’re just…”

Rick grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him with all the feeling he could muster. He arched up into Daryl, wrapping both legs around Daryl’s waist and tilting his hips upward. Daryl thrust forward deep inside of him and hit a spot that caused Rick to jerk with want and need. Daryl pressed down on him hard and sped up, thrusting into Rick over and over again, muttering things against his lips that made no sense and yet all the sense in the world.

“Come in me,” Rick told him, locking eyes with him in the darkness of the bedroom. “Please, Daryl. Just come in me.”

Daryl nodded and then smiled, kissed Rick gently as if he was a paper doll threatened by a gust of wind. “You first,” Daryl said, his eyes bright and rocked forward into Rick hard and fast, causing Rick to throw his head back and cry out. He put his lips against Rick’s ear and whispered to him, “I care about you. I’ve been thinking about you ever since I saw you in that station that first day. I need you. And I want you, Rick. I want you. Come for me, baby. Just let go. Be with me.”

Rick arched into Daryl, into the darkness of the apartment he had come to hate so much. He let everything wash over him---Daryl’s voice and his hands, the rough feeling of their skin together, the way he kissed, the corner of his lips, and his body deep inside Rick’s. Rick let go, screaming it out, clinging to Daryl like want, like grief, like oxygen. Daryl covered him inch for inch, head to toe, kissed him like their lives depended on it and finished in Rick just as forcefully, just as _complete_.

In the darkness, they lay next to each other, their limbs tangled, their mouths pressed together, and Rick finally felt at home.

***

Rick woke to an empty apartment. The light slanted in through the windows, casting soft light on the rumpled sheets and the clothes scattered across the floor. Rick sat up slowly, looking around the small room for Daryl and finding nothing. He sighed, putting one elbow on his knee and leaning his forehead into his hand. He knew it had to be too good to be true. Nothing like this ever happened to him. Nothing so... _right_. Who was he to think someone would stay? They all left in the end.

He was just ready to pull himself out of bed and into the bathroom when the bedroom door creaked open. Daryl slid through, quiet as a snake, in only a towel, his hair damp and tousled. Rick looked at him, standing there in his bedroom half naked, and had to blink twice to make sure it was real.

Daryl smiled at him. “What? Thought I’d gone somewhere?”

“You stayed?” Rick asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

Daryl shrugged and walked over, sitting on the bed beside Rick. “Still got to figure out what kind of damn coffee you like.”

Rick smiled and nodded, overcome with a rush of happiness, but the moment passed quickly, replaced by a boiling anxiety. “So, you--”

Daryl leaned forward and captured Rick’s mouth with his own, his hand soft, but firm, on the side of Rick’s neck. “You couldn’t get away from me even if you tried.”

“Well,” Rick said, teasing, “I do have to go to work this afternoon.”

Daryl grinned. “Good thing I know where that is. Go get a shower. Then we can go get breakfast or something. You’ve got shit in your fridge, you know that?” Daryl stood up and started dressing. Rick nodded and got out of bed, kissing Daryl once more before he headed to the bathroom.

***

Rick had stepped out of the shower and was pulling on his pants when he heard the doorbell ring. That could only mean one thing, he thought, and his blood ran cold. He grabbed his shirt and flew out of the bathroom and had managed to make it to the kitchen before Daryl casually opened the door to find an irritated Lori.

She saw Daryl and she blinked in surprise, then looked further into the room to where Rick was standing. She walked in uninvited.

“Lori,” Rick said, nodding to her. He looked down and noticed he was still undressed, so he lifted the shirt clutched in his hand and threw it over his head. It clung to his skin, which wasn’t quite dry.

“Rick,” she said, giving a sidelong glance at Daryl, “we have things to talk about.”

“Yeah,” he said and nodded. “Sure. Um, this is Daryl.” Rick walked closer to him, motioning toward Lori. “And this is Lori, my ex-wife.”

Daryl nodded at her, but said nothing. Lori nodded back and then paused, obviously waiting for him to leave. When he didn’t, she continued, slowly. “The storage unit, Rick. We need to clean it out this week. Shane said you were off--”

“He’s busy,” Daryl cut in. Lori gave him a surprised look and continued.

“Well, we need to get it done. If you’re off work--”

“I said he’s busy.” Daryl told her a second time.

“I’m sorry,” Lori said and got that look in her eye that Rick knew all too well. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Daryl,” he told her, “and I said he was busy.”

“I think he can decide for himself if he’s busy or not,” Lori said, her eyebrows raised, her fighting expression on.

“I am, Lori,” Rick cut in. “Busy. Look, I’ll do it by the end of the week. Promise.”

“We need to do it together and I don’t have much time, so we should do it now.”

“What do you have going on? You don’t work.”

“I have things, Rick. I have a life, you know.” Lori set her stance and tilted her head in that condescending manner that Rick hated. “I have to watch Carl and I have to watch the house and I have my OB GYN appointments.”

“Don’t,” Rick said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please, don’t.”

Lori scoffed. “You’re going to have to get used to it eventually, Rick.”

Rick shook his head and tried to steel himself, but he felt the conversation drifting away. Then there was a hand strong on his shoulder and he looked up to see Daryl right beside him. “I said,” Daryl told her, “he was busy this morning, so you’ll need to leave now.”

Daryl stepped forward and shooed her out the door. Indignant, she tried to stand her ground, but Daryl moved into her personal space, forcing her backwards until she was outside. “Who ARE you?” she asked him, anger in her eyes.

Daryl smiled. “The best fuck he’s ever had.” And then he slammed the door in her face.

***

Of course, it couldn't last. Rick couldn’t live without a phone and he couldn’t not give Lori his number, if for no other reason than Carl. So after they had composed themselves and grabbed a quick bite to eat, they headed to Best Buy. Rick was overly aware of Daryl’s presence right beside him, the way his hair shined in the florescent lights, the movement of his hips, his shoulders. The expression on his face when he bitched about how the store didn’t have good music and how iPhones were not as awesome as everyone thought they were. And despite the fact that Rick was buying another phone that would probably be just as much trouble as the last one, he couldn’t keep from smiling and stealing glances out of the corner of his eye at Daryl.

He made sure to put Daryl’s number in his phone first. And then on principal of the matter, he put work, Traci, his old fishing buddy, and even Leon in before he got to Lori. He paused outside the store, staring at the new contact screen that flashed Lori’s name and then Daryl was grabbing the phone, changing her name to “Lame Ass Bitch” and putting a silent ringtone on her number.

“Fixed,” Daryl said, handing it back. Rick smiled at him, too distracted by Daryl’s eyes to take the phone. “You better take it, man, before I change my ringtone to ‘I Touch Myself.’” Rick glared and snatched it out of his hand, but his mouth couldn’t help but tilting upwards. He leaned forward and stole one more kiss before climbing back in the car.

Daryl slid in the passenger side and Rick nodded over at him. “Want me to drop you off? I have to be at work in thirty.”

“Nah,” Daryl said, shrugging, “I’ll go with you. I need to see Merle. Tell him I’m alright.”

Rick nodded, sighing inwardly in relief. He knew that eventually Daryl couldn’t be with him every moment of every day, but he was glad for any last few minutes he could get. His presence was soothing, a balm on the open wound of Rick’s life. So Rick drove slowly to work, making sure to get there in time, but not a minute sooner.

They walked in the door together and Traci looked up, gave them both a big smile and began talking to Daryl about how happy she was that he was okay. Rick nodded at the both of them and went back to the cells to bring Merle into the visiting room. Merle saw him and was quick on his feet and quick on Rick’s case, but the second that he heard that Daryl was in the building, he was all soft voices and “old Merle will be no trouble.” Rick left them alone in the visiting room with an officer watching them and headed to his desk.

He had about ten minutes of peace before Shane walked through the front door and made a beeline for Rick. Rick pretended not to see him, but it didn’t do any good as Shane walked right up, standing within a foot of Rick, towering over him with his hands on his belt. “Lori needs you to clean out the storage,” he said by way of conversation.

Rick ignored him for a moment and just as Shane took another breath to speak again, Daryl came out from the back. Rick looked up at him and nodded him over. Daryl walked briskly to the desk as Shane continued to tell Rick the dire situation of the damn storage unit. Daryl grabbed a chair alongside Rick’s desk and sat in it, pushing himself off the floor so that the chair rolled him right next to Rick. Shane balked.

“Police business,” he told Daryl, “we’re talking.”

Daryl shrugged. “Didn’t sound like business to me.”

Shane licked his lips and tilted his head. “Man, I’m trying to have a conversation here and I don’t even know who you are.”

“Oh, this is Daryl,” Rick broke in. “Daryl, Shane.” Neither one backed down, so Rick continued. “Look, I have to work today and tomorrow. But I have Friday off. So,” he shrugged, “tell Lori we’ll do it then.”

“She doesn’t want to do it on Friday,” Shane told him, “She’s got an appointment with--”

“She can reschedule,” Rick said and looked up at Shane, setting his jaw. “Look, I’m working, Shane. See me working? And I work tomorrow.”

“If you had done it this m--”

“I was busy.”

“You’re not busy,” Shane scoffed.

“I was.”

“Doing what?”

Daryl leaned forward a little to grab Shane’s attention and then spoke plain as day. “He was on a date, you buzzkill.”

Shane snorted. “With who?”

“Me,” Daryl said and made a show of leaning back close to Rick.

Rick watched the emotion cross Shane’s face--confusion, surprise, brief rage. “And just who the fuck are you?” Shane said, low and dangerous.

“Daryl Dixon,” he said easily, still not backing down. Rick watched the two of them--Shane standing taller in an aggressive stance, Daryl casually sprawled in the chair, but his eyes hard and challenging.

Shane nodded. “So you’re the brother of that scumbag we have in our cell.”

“Yep,” Daryl said and didn’t add anything else.

Shane turned to Rick. “Rick, man, I don’t know what has gotten into you, but this isn’t like you. Why don’t you tell this douchebag here to leave and we can talk about Lori calmly, man to man.”

Rick assessed his choices carefully--everything from telling Daryl to punch Shane to punching Shane himself to asking Daryl to leave. In the end, he cleared his throat and repeated himself. “Friday. We can clean out the storage unit on Friday. How about at ten? That sounds good to me. Daryl? You coming?”

Daryl smiled, but never took his eyes off Shane. “Wouldn’t miss it for the _world_. Lots of fun it’s going to be.”

“Man,” Shane said, and scratched his head, “Carl’s going to be there and I don’t think that that’s a good idea.”

“You’ll be there, too,” Rick said, tilting his chin up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea either.”

Shane’s nostrils flared and he stood there for a second longer, his eyes wild, before he backed down and stormed out the front door. Rick let out a long breath.

“Thanks,” he told Daryl and Daryl nodded. “You will come, right?”

“Of course,” he said, “You just tell me what’s going down and I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Rick said. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

“You won’t have to,” Daryl told him and then quirked the corners of his mouth up. “But we got another problem.”

“What’s that?” Rick asked, turning toward him.

Daryl grinned. “Merle is _pissed_.”

***

Daryl and Rick agreed to drive different vehicles on Friday, in case they needed to leave for any reason, but they set a meeting place a block down from the storage unit so they could meet up before heading into the war zone. Daryl was there when Rick arrived, leaning against his motorcycle and holding a Starbucks cup. Rick smiled and got out, thought about just nodding to him, maybe giving him a clap on the shoulder, but his mind derailed and he slid his hand onto Daryl’s neck, tilted his head and kissed him hard, like he hadn’t seen him in days despite the fact that Rick had spent 90% of his free time with Daryl.

Daryl smiled against his mouth and kissed back, before shoving the cup at Rick. “Cappuccino,” he said confidently and Rick looked at the cup before wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. “Son of a whore,” Daryl muttered and frowned super hard. “Six bucks, man. Dammit!”

“You want me to tell you?” Rick asked and Daryl shook his head vigorously.

“I _told_ you I’d figure it out. Ain’t _that_ many more coffee types.” He paused. “Are there?”

Rick just smiled at him and then looked down the street. “Are you ready?”

Daryl shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. Are _you_?”

Rick nodded and squared his shoulders. “Yes. Yes, I am. I’m driving the car down there. Lori probably wants me to take some things. Follow me on the bike?”

“You got it,” Daryl said, and nodded to the cup, “and throw that shit away. I’m not drinking it.”

Rick found a trashcan and threw the cup out before getting in his car and leading Daryl to the storage unit. As he pulled up, he saw Shane’s truck outside. The unit door was open and Lori was standing in the doorway, her back to the drive, talking to Shane, who must have been further inside. Carl was leaning against the truck, clearly waiting for Rick to pull in. As soon as Rick popped into view, Carl was up and running to meet him.

Rick stepped out of the car just as Daryl was turning off his bike and stepping off of it. Lori turned and looked to them, but didn’t move forward just yet.

“DAD!” Carl said, giving him a big hug and then, in true kid fashion, launching into all the things that Rick had missed. “Mrs. Alger is a terrible person. She gave me _detention_ and all I did was throw a spitball and Jerry and he had started it, I swear. Mom says I shouldn’t be like that, but he’s a bully, Dad, and I was just doing a preemptive strike. At least that’s what Shane says it was, but Mom won’t listen. Will you talk to her?”

“Sure, Carl,” he said, “of course, I will. But you’re sure you didn’t deserve it?”

“POSITIVE,” Carl said and looked him straight in the eye like this was the most important thing in the world.

Rick knelt and hugged him. “I’ve missed you, son. I’m sorry I haven’t been around a lot.”

“It’s okay,” Carl said, frowning. “Mom said you’ve been working.”

Rick laughed. “Yeah, I have. Hey, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He turned to where Daryl was hanging back, hands in his pockets. “This is Daryl. Daryl, this is my son, Carl.”

“Hey, dude,” Daryl said, nodding at him.

“Hey,” Carl said and gave his dad a look, before turning back to Daryl. “That your motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” Daryl said, nodding.

“Can I ride it?”

At that point, Lori jumped in, wrapping her arms around Carl and speaking down at him. “Carl, honey, go help Shane go through those boxes of your old stuff, okay? Daddy and I have to talk.”

Carl reluctantly turned and headed into the storage unit. Lori turned to Rick and glared over his shoulder at Daryl. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Rick, you bringing him here. Carl has a lot going on right now with the d--with things. And I just think that adding his dad dating a man to it is not going to help out the situation.”

Rick stood for a second in silence, before he shrugged, staring off into the distance. “Lori, it’s my life. So let’s not get into it now, huh? You said you wanted to clean out the storage. Let’s do that.”

Lori started to speak again, but Daryl brushed past her walking forward. Rick followed him and the two of them entered the unit where Shane was separating out boxes. _Her things, my things_ , Rick thought and went to where he recognized his old baseball card collection.

“Hey, Dad!” Carl said, lifting up an old remote helicopter. “Remember this?”

Rick laughed. “Yeah, I do.” He spoke to Daryl. “Got it for his eighth birthday. He loved that thing. We flew it all over the park until it accidentally hit this old lady’s dog.”

“She yelled at us,” Carl added, “but it was a stupid dalmatian anyway.” He dove back into the box. Lori walked in behind Rick and gave Shane a look, nodding toward Rick and Daryl.

Shane stood from where he was bending over a box, sniffed, and walked toward Rick. “Look, man,” he said in a low voice, so that Carl wouldn’t hear. “Let’s just be civil, alright. Just tell this dude to leave and lets just have a nice time.”

Rick crossed his arms and then shrugged. “I don’t think I want to do that.”

“Don’t cause a scene in front of Carl,” Shane told him, eyebrows raised.

Rick furrowed his brow. “He’s my son, Shane. _Don’t_ forget that.”

“Rick,” Lori said and walked up to them. “Just please. For me. Tell him to go.”

“I’m not going to tell him to go, Lori.”

“Rick--”

“I’m NOT,” Rick yelled. Carl looked up to where all the adults were crowded around, talking, and Lori and Shane at least had the gall to look embarrassed about it. Rick could see Lori gathering herself to speak, but he cut her off. “Daryl, can you take Carl outside?”

Daryl looked between the three of them and nodded. He walked forward to where Carl was, but Lori stepped in front of him. “Rick, I do not want this man near my son.”

Rick spoke dangerously low. “Well, too damn fucking bad, Lori. You want to talk to me? Is that what you keep saying? You keep calling and wanting to talk to me? Well, we’re going to talk, but I am NOT doing it in front of my son, do you understand me? Daryl, take him outside.”

Daryl moved around Lori to Carl. “Hey, man,” he said. “You like that helicopter, huh? You’re going to like the bike more. Let me go show you how it works, okay?”

“Really?” Carl said, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, kid,” Daryl said. “You learn enough maybe you can help me fix her the next time she breaks. Let’s go.”

Carl was up and following Daryl out excitedly. “No riding,” Rick called after him. Daryl turned and nodded, smiling just slightly.

Once they were gone, the silence was deafening. Lori was the one who broke it. “Rick, I think it is very rude and very inconsiderate for you to just bring him here in front of Carl.”

“Lori,” Rick said and then sighed, looked at the ground and squeezed his eyes shut. He thought about backing down, quieting, turning and leaving or worse, doing what she asked. But it had been too long and too hard of a road and there were things within Rick that needed to come out, things that needed to be said, thrown into the light as plain as day, glittering and justified.

“Lori,” he said again, “you have a lot of things. Okay? You two have a lot.” He looked at Shane. “You got each other. You made damn sure of that. You have a car and a truck and the house. You have Shane’s job, my paycheck, and daycare. You have my _son_. What do I have, Lori?” She started to answer, but he jumped ahead of her. “I have a patrol car, an empty apartment...and I have Daryl. And you do not, you do NOT, get to take away the only thing I have, Lori.” His voice dropped softer. “Not after you have taken so much from me. Do you understand that? You don’t get to.”

“Rick, that’s not--”

“I don’t give a _fuck_. Do you hear me? I don’t,” he leaned forward, his eyebrows raised, his stance tense and angry, “give one flying fuck about you and about Shane and about your goddamn baby and you cannot make me care about that, Lori, and I will _never_ get used to it and I never have to. I never do. Because it,” he waved his hand out into the air, “is not mine.” Rick shrugged and then gave a startled half-laugh. “It’s not mine, Lori. And I don’t care about your life. I don’t. You cheated on me. You slept with my _best friend_.”

Shane tried to step forward, but Rick took a step back and pointed at him menacingly. “Don’t you dare, Shane. Don’t you fucking dare. You do not have the right, man.”

Shane looked him hard in the eye and then nodded, once, just slightly. Rick turned back to Lori. “I want you to stop calling me, okay? I want you to not pick up your phone and have me on damn redial or whatever you do.”

“Rick,” Lori said, shaking her head, “there are things we have to do.”

“No, there are things YOU have to do. You want off the insurance? Fucking call the insurance place and take yourself off the fucking insurance, Lori. Fix your own damn will. Okay? Take your shit out of this storage room and leave mine and if I want it, I’ll come get it. I am so tired of you calling me. For four straight months, you _calling_ me, Lori.”

“I am _trying_ to do this civilly,” Lori said, slashing her hand down in the air like it was a knife. Rick could see her eyes widening, her jaw quivering in that specific way that happened right before she cried. Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and thought about how he knew more about Lori right before she cried than he did right before she smiled and asked himself how they had ever thought that they were good for one another. “Rick,” she said, pleadingly. “Rick, I just want to do this right. I just want us to get over this. And then we can move on with our lives. I just want it over.”

“It is over,” Rick said, looking at her. “It was over the first time you _fucked_ Shane.” Shane turned and walked into the corner, his hand rubbing at his mouth. “And you don’t have the right to do this, Lori. I am so sorry for you and for your feelings, but you don’t get to sleep with my best friend, divorce me and then tell me what to do and how I should get over it because I’m not. I’m not over it, Lori. And you know why not? Because I need _time_ and you are not giving me time. I need to be left _alone_. I need you to not call me, okay? I need to not see you because every time I see you, then I just hear it again. Over and over. You telling me about Shane like I was going to _forgive_ you and I cannot live like that. I can’t.”

“You divorced me, Rick.”

“Yes. I did.” Rick held her gaze steady. “And you asked me to forget about how you were in love with another man. I think that makes us more than even.”

Lori looked over to Shane, where his back was still turned to both of them and then she looked at Rick, pleadingly. “So...what do we do?”

“You leave me alone,” he said. “I call you if I need anything, but you leave me alone and you let me heal. I need time. Space.”

Lori stared at him hard and then swallowed, looked at the ground and nodded. “Okay,” she whispered softly.

“So…” Rick said and took a deep breath. “I’m going to go. And I’ll clean out my part of the storage tomorrow. ”

Lori put her hand against her mouth and nodded. “And Carl? What are you going to tell him?”

“That I’ll see him after the custody battle.”

“And are you going to tell him about Daryl?”

Rick swallowed. “Yeah. He’s twelve, Lori. And he needs to know the truth. We can’t keep hiding things from him. Lying.”

“I’m not going to explain to him how his daddy is gay, Rick. I’m not.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll do it.”

“When?”

Rick squared his shoulders. “Now.”

He walked through the door, leaving Shane and Lori behind, and marched straight up to the motorcycle, where Daryl was showing Carl the engine. “Hey,” he said, “Carl, buddy, can I talk to you for a minute?” He knelt down. “I have something I have to say.” Behind him he heard Lori walking out of the storage unit, pausing inside the doorway.

Carl furrowed his brow, but nodded.

“It’s about…” He looked up at smiled at Daryl. “It’s about Daryl.”

Carl took one look at his dad, one look at Daryl, and then spit out, “Is that your boyfriend?” Rick blinked and found he didn’t have a response for that. Carl continued. “I heard Mom and Shane talking. They said that you were on a date.”

Rick cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

Carl looked up at Daryl. “You went on a date with my dad?” he asked. Daryl just nodded, leaning back against the bike.

“Kevin has a boyfriend, too,” Carl said. “At school. It’s fine. Alan picks on him, but Alan’s a bully.”

“Do you…” Rick started and then had to clear his throat a second time. “You understand?”

“I wish that you and Mom would just stop fighting. But...he’s not so bad. He’s got a motorcycle.”

Rick laughed and then nodded. “Yeah, he does.”

Carl looked at the ground and then shyly asked. “If I come over sometime, can...can I ride it?”

“I don’t know how your Mom would feel about that,” Rick said. “But...we can talk about it.”

Lori approached them and then wrapped her arms around Carl’s shoulders. Carl turned toward her, pleadingly. “Can I spend time with Dad? PLEASE? Can I go with him?”

Lori looked at Rick, still kneeling on the pavement, then back at Carl. “Rick,” she started and then glanced at Daryl. “I didn’t know…” She sighed. “I didn’t know how I was making you feel. If you want to...you can take Carl with you tonight. He could spend the weekend with you. If you guys wanted.” She stroked Carl’s hair and he looked at Rick anxiously.

Rick smiled and stood. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. That sounds great.”

Lori nodded and then leaned down, hugging her son. “Carl, baby, go tell Shane he’s going to take you home so you can get your things and then you can come back here and go with Daddy, okay?”

Carl nodded excitedly and took off at a beeline for the storage unit. Lori straightened up and looked at Daryl. “I’m sorry. For the way I’ve been acting.”

Daryl shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Lori nodded and then turned to Rick. “Rick...I’m sorry, too. For...everything. I don’t know if I’ve told you. But I am. You have to understand, I...I didn’t want any of this. Not like how it went down. We were just too young and we were never right for one another and I couldn’t take it. And Shane...it doesn’t make any of it right. I know that. I’ve been trying to make it right, but I’ve just been messing it up.” She put the back of her hand to her mouth and blinked rapidly. “I thought if we kept talking, you would hate me less. I thought I could make it better. And I just kept making it worse. I can’t ask you to forgive me.” She let her hand fall down by her side and she shrugged. “And I am so sorry I asked you to forget. I didn’t want to lose my life and now we both have and we have to start again. And you’re right. I can’t take…” she looked at Daryl. “I can’t take your new ending from you. I’ve been selfish. And a bitch.”

“Damn right,” Daryl muttered.

Lori nodded to herself. “So I won’t call. And I’ll have my lawyers get in contact with yours so that we can change the custody arrangement.” She turned away. “I was so scared he would hate me. That if he could see you, go with you...that he’d never come back. He’s my son. But he’s yours, too, and I don’t have that right.”

“I’ll always bring him back to his mother,” Rick said. “Always. You know that.”

Lori nodded and then she turned her back on Rick and he could tell from the shiver in her shoulders that she was crying. “I’m going to go, Lori,” he said. “I’ll be down the block so that Shane can drop off Carl. And I’ll bring him on Sunday, in plenty of time for dinner. How does five sound?”

She nodded, but didn’t turn back. Rick stood awkwardly for a moment, before he turned as well. He nodded at Daryl and they both drove their vehicles away.

***

As soon as Rick stopped the engine a block down, he leaned over his steering wheel, composing himself. He heard the motorcycle park behind him and then a second later, the passenger side car door opened and Daryl crawled in. “You okay?” he asked.

Rick nodded. “Yeah.” He sat back and looked over at Daryl. “That was...not pleasant. But I needed to say it.”

“I’m proud of you,” Daryl said. “You’re right. They needed to hear it.”

“I made her cry,” Rick said.

Daryl nodded and then shrugged. “Bitch had it coming. She can cry a time or two after what she did.”

“Still,” Rick said.

“I know,” Daryl sighed. “But she’s got a nice warm body to cuddle up to at night, so she’ll be fine. She’ll get over it.”

Rick nodded. “I’m sorry about dragging you into this. I bet all you wanted was just some casual dates and now you’re in a divorce battle.”

Daryl shrugged. “If I hadn’t wanted to be there, I would have left.”

“Sorry about Carl, too.”

“What about Carl?”

“I didn’t exactly ask you if it was okay if I had him for the weekend. I just get to see him so seldomly--”

“Hey,” Daryl cut in. “Look, you’re right when you think that I had this weekend all planned out to be us, the rest of that Natty Light, and a bed. But so what?” He shrugged. “Your kid is more important, so you have nothing to apologize for.”

Rick smiled at him and then reached across the seat. He hesitated for just a moment before grabbing Daryl’s hand and squeezing it. It felt weird to be able to do that--to touch someone again--and he thought of what Daryl had told him. _Just think about whether you want to keep doing it_ , and Rick knew that he did. “You don’t have to...stay. This weekend. If you’re not cool with it. We can just meet up on Monday.”

Daryl looked into his eyes, then at their joined hands. “I’m not really the kind of guy who does casual very well.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s a failing of mine that I’m too damn romantic. Merle always says a guy should just get his and go on. Hit it and quit it. But I’m not like that. I get involved, you know? And I’m _involved_. With you.”

“So…” Rick said and stared out the windshield at the street. “So my twelve-year-old son was right? You’re my…”

“Do not say that word,” Daryl said and scoffed. “That’s a stupid ass word. _Boyfriend. Gay. Homo_ whatever. We’re just two guys. Who like each other.”

“And are involved?”

Daryl gave Rick his half-smile and lifted Rick’s hands to his lips, kissed his fingers and then started sucking on a thumb. He winked at Rick and then pulled Rick in, met his lips with Daryl’s own and kissed him there in the car, deep and hot and meaningful and Rick had his answer.

***

Epilogue

“Okay,” Daryl said, sitting down across from Rick’s office desk and glaring daggers at him. He slowly sat the cup down gingerly on the wood finishing. “Iced. Hazelnut. Macchiato. No Fat.” He lifted his hand away and waited for Rick’s reaction.

Rick just as gingerly picked up the cup, made a show of twirling it around to study it, and then nodded and took a swig.

Daryl clapped his hands together once and sat back in his seat. “Fuck yes! Atta boy.”

Rick smiled at him over the cup and slid his hand across the desk, opening it and waiting for Daryl. Daryl smiled and obliged, reaching over to put his fingers in Rick’s palm, drawing small circles over the skin. Rick watched his movements, small and subtle and sure, and thought that this is what he had been moving to all along. This was it, his mind in perfect harmony, his body singing, finally here and home and alive.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover for "A Motorcycle, A Latte, and an Apartment Roof"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833838) by [SkariCovers (skarlatha)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/pseuds/SkariCovers)




End file.
